A Remy Lebeau Thanksgiving
by Silver Harpie
Summary: What happens when a certain Cajun tries to teach his nonAmerican colleagues about Thanksgiving? The answer: turkey hives, a bet, and a classic holiday movie.


**Author's Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution, Marvel Comics, Charlie Brown, or A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. I also do not own Disney.**

It was the afternoon before Thanksgiving and Remy walking through the base having no care in the world. He was minding his own business when he noticed that the other members of his team were being quite loud in the TV room. Leaning in the doorway, he smirked as he realized what all the uproar was about.

"I'm telling ya, mate. It's all a scam. It is just a way for American retailers to make more cash." John was saying.

"I don't know. They seem to enjoy it very much." Piotr replied.

"Sure everyone enjoys a good bird once in awhile. Except for me, it gives me hives. Not to mention all the people with their hats and shoes that has buckles on them. Americans are very strange people." John concluded.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." That was from Creed, otherwise known as Sabertooth, who was actually trying to watch television.

"Fine. I'm an idiot and you're a giant fur ball, mate. But, really. All this so called holiday consists of is stuffing yourself, sleeping, parades, and 'football.'" John said, adding finger quotation marks around football. "It's not even real football."

"What do you consider real football, John?" Piotr asked knowing that he would regret asking it.

"Football is running around and actually kicking a ball with your foot. Not running around trying to flatten someone on the grass with hardly any kicking involved."

"Now if we were in Australia, mon ami, I wouldn't be going around making fun of one of your holidays. Especially one that is time honored and only celebrated there." Remy said deciding to step in and defend his country.

"Of course ya wouldn't, mate. One of us Aussies would sic a rabid dingo on ya or hide a croc in your pool or put a lizard in your sock draw. Believe me, I've done-I mean I've heard of it happening."

"Makes you wonder why ole Bucket Head blackmailed him into joining." Again from Creed, who was still sore about the fur ball comment.

"He rescued me from a tight spot. Nothing more. Nothing less. Not to mention he said I would get to burn a lot of things and play with fire most of the time."

"He seems to like sending people to psychical hospitals. He might send you next if you don't stop burning my things." Piotr said as he steeled up.

"Yeah. Wanda's kinda hot ain't she? How did Bucket Headed Boss have such an amazing sheila? His son's a…Did I say that out loud? By the looks on your faces it appears I did. Let us all forget this and go back to Thanksgiving and why Americans are lazy. Shall we?" said John quickly.

"Burn my things again and that little piece of information just might slip the next time I report in to the boss." Piotr said low and with a lot of menace.

Remy decided this would be a good time to intervene before they had to repaint and refurnish the base…again. "Thanksgiving is not all about turkeys and football and having a couple days off of work. It is about giving thanks. This is why it is called Thanksgiving. Yes, John?" Remy said having noticed that John had raised his hand and was waving it wildly trying to catch his attention.

"So…Americans couldn't think of a better name?"

"That is not the point." Remy said though clenched teeth. "The year was…"

"Are ya going to tell us a story?"

"I..."

"Alrighty! I'll get the popcorn." John yelled as he bolted to the kitchen.

"I'm going to regret this aren't I?"

"Heh, heh. That's your problem, Cajun." Creed smirked.

"Are you going to leave?"

"And miss the opportunity of you trying to educate the fire hazard? One hundred bucks says he won't get the lesson."

"Two hundred."

"Deal."

"I'm ready. Start."

"John, mon ami, you need a hobby."

"Me and Piotr are ready to learn about culture. So begin already."

"Piotr and I. The correct English is Poitr and I." Piotr corrected.

"Whatever, mate. On with the story Remy."

"The year was 1621. The place was Plymouth Colony of Massachusetts. The Pilgrims had left England in hope of liberty to worship God their own way instead of the way of the King. When they reached Plymouth, they found liberty, but unfortunately, they found out they had no idea on how to survive in a new land and climate. They didn't know how to plant crops; they picked the wrong places to build a colony and a life. In short, they were clueless. No smart remarks, John. Then the Native Americans arrived on the scene."

"Don't you mean the Indians? Was Pocahontas there? Did she and John Smith really have a thing going on? Was… "

"Your sense of reality is shot. It is politically incorrect to call them Indians. First, Pocahontas wasn't there because she was from Virginia; and secondly, she was dead by then. And no. Pocahontas didn't have a thing with John Smith. She was like twelve when they met. Thirdly, Disney is not a proper source for information. Don't interrupt me again. As I was saying, the Native Americans arrived on the scene. Showed them how to plant food and survive the harsh winters. The next autumn, the Pilgrims had a bountiful harvest and invited the Native Americans over for a feast. They came and brought venison, popcorn and most likely some other things as well. This lasted three days. And that is what happened at the first Thanksgiving."

Remy finished and looked at his "pupils." Piotr looked interested and educated in American culture. He wasn't the one he was worried about. John on the other hand, he looked…disappointed and unsatisfied.

"So you're telling me that Pocahontas and John Smith never had a thing? What about that documentary I watched the other day? It was on cable! Cable lied! A meal that last three days? That must have been a lot of food." Said John.

"Seems that my wallet has mysteriously gained two hundred dollars," Creed grunted smugly.

"I lost a bet. I never lose a bet." Remy replied a bit dazed. "I am Gambit. My very name is related to betting."

"Stick to cards, buddy. You might be better at them then what you are with wild bets."

"No. No. The bet isn't over yet. It is still going on. I double the offer. I'm not done teaching yet." Remy remarked as he started out the door. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get some visual aid." Twenty minutes later, Remy roared back into the base on his motorcycle. He stormed back into the rec room, slid the tape into the player.

"Alright. Watch this; and perhaps you'll learn something. It's a children show, but it's a classic." Remy retorted and stormed out of the room. He was followed by the theme of the show played by a piano and most commonly known for a beagle that acted more human than any of the characters. He spent the next hour playing internet poker and winning. Cooled down he went to see how it went and hopefully collect four hundred bucks from his animal-like associate. Walking into the room, he realized maybe A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Who can only cook cold cereal and barely toast? That is just pathetic."

"John, that is not the point."

"I know. But who seriously would let their kid stay home and cook his friends a dinner? How come we never see the adults? Why can't the adults talk?"

"Fire hazard, you are a hopeless case."

"Ah, who cares what you think Sabes."

"Don't call me Sabes. The only reason you are not dead right now is to prove to the Cajun he owes me four hundred bucks."

"What is the deal with Peppermint Patty? Is it a boy or a sheila?"

"Peppermint Patty is a girl, John. Couldn't you tell that she had a crush on Charlie Brown?" Remy groaned.

"Yes, I could tell about Patty's crush. But now a days you never now. And what about that Marcy chick? Why did she keep calling Peppermint 'sir'? Did _they_ have a little something going on?"

"John, sometimes you scare me. And not in a good way." Piotr sighed.

"They were just good friends, mon ami, nothing else."

"What do ya think, Creed?"

"I think I am going to kill me a runty Canadian. You are giving me a headache." Creed snarled and stalked out. Turning around and growled at the red and black-eyed Cajun, "Where's my four hundred?"

"Patience is a virtue. I want to hear John's view on Thanksgiving now."

"I don't have any virtues. But go ahead, fire hazard. What do ya think and hurry up; times a-wasting. I want my money and I want a good fight with Wolverine."

"It makes sense. I mean, that Linus kid is really smart. Is he the brains? My favorite was Snoopy. I mean a dog that can cook! That is just too amazing! Thanksgiving is important. It is not meaningless. It is a day for remembering your blessings. Thank you, Charlie Brown. I have seen the light thanks to you. Oh. You too, Remy. I guess you helped a little. Just don't quit your day job and become a teacher. You aren't very good at it." John concluded. Remy stuck out his hand, and with a know-it-all smirk, signaled Creed to hand over his money.

"But seriously. I think there was some side action going on with Peppermint Petty and Marcy. I think Charlie Brown was just a false front to cover it all up."

This brought in more friction within the Acolytes. And of course, the Acolytes wouldn't be complete without Magneto; who made an appearance at that exact moment. He walked in the room, hoping to find his "employees" watching some intelligent show or perhaps reading a book or, in reality, not killing each other. The sight he caught was only half of this last option. He saw Colossus, the quiet and sensible one, arguing with Pyro over, it seemed, the preference of partnership of a cartoon character. Sabertooth was counting out money and grudging handing it to Gambit; who was in fact hitting his head against the wall repeatedly. Sighing, he walked back out and headed back toward his office. Planning on having a few shots of the strongest alcohol he could find. He started walking faster when he heard Pyro suggest an idea to Gambit.

"Hey! Why don't we have our own Thanksgiving here! We can't have turkey of course, I get turkey hives. But maybe we can have ham or burgers or something. Ooo. Let's have burgers. I can cook them on the barbie. Oh! And we could hot dogs and grilled corn on the cob. I bet we could find a way to grill mashed potatoes and veggies and…"

I had to find the pyromaniac, Magneto thought as he poured himself his second glass. Why couldn't Xavier find the pyromaniac? Why couldn't I recruit Cannonball or Sunspot? But no, I get the uncontrollable animal, the self-centered son, the homicidal daughter.

**A/N: 1) For clarification I have nothing against Charlie Brown, Marcy or Peppermint Patty. I was watching my television and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving happened to come on. It was late and I was hyped up on caffeine and for some odd reason I could just picture the Acolytes having the Marcy/Peppermint Patty argument. 2) I know writing that he didn't know Disney's Pocahontas was just a children's show makes him sound very loony, but it just sounded hilarious in my head.**


End file.
